Bloody Hook
by Scarlett Ashes
Summary: After escaping from Neverland with Henry, Emma finds herself back in Storybrook, and confronted with the Captain she thought she'd grown to know, only to discover that nothing is as it seems.


Emma's vision cleared, and she realized at once that she was in Gold's shop. She stood, her legs wobbly, and braced herself against the wall. How did she…?

Hook. She remembered seeing his face as the crowbar had swung towards her head, but why…

"How are you feeling, Swan?" a too-familiar voice asked. Hook emerged from the back room.

"What the hell is going on here? Why did you bring me here?" She clutched at her head as the volume of her own voice made it pound. She felt the sizable lump on her temple.

Hook tilted his head to the side, and she thought he looked like a cat watching its prey.

"Dammit, answer me!" she said, leaning against the wall. She noticed that her jacket was missing when her skin met the plaster.

"You know, as a Captain, I'm not quite used to taking orders. You may want to be a bit nicer."

"Tell me what's going on! Why did you – "

She never got to finish her sentence. Before she could even think to react, Hook lunged at her, his right hand easily fitting around her throat as he gripped it hard. Her head collided with the wall behind her, knocking stars into her vision.

"And how are you feeling now?" he asked again. She felt the cold steel of his hook running courses over her bare arm. She shuddered, and the grip on her neck tightened. "I don't frighten you, do I? I thought you said that you knew I'd never lay a hand…or hook…" he pressed the sharp appendage into her collar bone, "on your pretty white skin."

"Why are you doing this? Why?" Emma asked the cold, emotionless eyes. No trace of his usual playfulness remained, no gleam, no humanity…

"Must I have a reason? Can't I just say that I wanted to?"

"No you can't," she ground out, panic threatening to overtake her. "I goddamn deserve a reason."

His lips quirked, a shadow of the mocking smile she was so used to seeing. Her heart pounded harder.

"Very well. If you insist, I suppose I could think up some excuse. Lets see…" he dug the hook deeper into her skin, and she tried to shy away from the pain but his other hand held her neck too tightly. It seemed like she couldn't move without dying. "I suppose," he finally said, "it might have to do with that man, beast, Crocodile…whatever the hell his is now. The one you've been protecting. The one with whom you schemed to take away my last chance for revenge!" He shouted the last few words, and she could feel his spit hit her face with the force of it. The hook was suddenly gone from her collar bone, but just as quickly as the pain disappeared, she felt it again – white, hot, fresh - a thousand times deeper. She screamed as his steel cut into her shoulder and lodged there. Her legs buckled automatically. Had he hit an artery? The thought fluttered across her mind like a moth before it was consumed by the agonizing pain. His hand still held her neck for a moment before he let her drop, ripping the hook out as she did. Emma screamed afresh and fell at his feet. She knew that she had to get away, she had to stand and run…

"Sorry Swan, but I can't have you going anywhere just yet." His hand gripped her hair and he tugged down, hard. She felt her hairs rip away from her scalp, but that was nothing compared to the gaping hole that was now leaking bright blood all over the Persian rug. The hook's silver sheen was masked by a glistening red coat as he held it before her eyes. "This is just the start, after all, unless you be a good lass and tell me where to find the black gem."

"You're still trying to kill him." Emma said, her voice a hoarse croak. It was getting harder to breathe. "After everything you said, you're still trying to kill Gold..."

"Can't say I'd expect you to understand, what with you letting Bae die so easily and all. How was that, by the way? Did you even try to save him? Did he tell you that he loved you before you let him go?" He slid the tip of his hook down the front of her blouse, gently testing the resistance of her buttons. One popped before he spoke again, his mouth close enough to her ear that she felt the faint brush of his lips. "Did you tell him how you couldn't wait to fuck me once he was gone?"

Emma struggled beneath him, fighting past the pain, but he brushed her blows away as easily as if her arms were feathers.

"Tell me where the gem is, Swan, before you end up shot the way he was. I've never been one to resist a bit of fun, but I am in a bit of a rush."

Her heart suddenly stopped dead in her chest, even as the cold, bloody steel popped another button. It wasn't…

"You're not him," she barely breathed. The words hardly reached her own ears, but echoed violently. His eyes met hers.

"You don't think so?" The smile was back, teeth bared. She heard him chuckle. He still didn't get it.

She smiled faintly herself. "No, no I don't."

Creases appeared on his forehead as he seemed to consider her answer. Something other than malice registered on his face. "And what makes you so sure?"

She managed a laugh of her own. "How could you have known that Neal was shot? I only ever told you he was dead."

Before he had a chance to fully process her answer, she gripped his hook and twisted it hard to the left. Lefty loosey…righty tighty…and out it popped, free of its holster. Emma gripped both of her hands around the hook's base and swung it hard, burying the appendage into the right side of his neck, scraping bone and severing all those vital parts. His body lurched backwards, off of her, and the one hand scrabbled at his neck. She watched a pool of red quickly gather beneath him on the floor as he tried so desperately to breathe through a severed windpipe. She watched from the floor as he writhed and thrashed, forcing the blood out that much quicker. Maybe he was trying to die faster, she thought briefly.

It only took a minute for his body to still, even though it felt like hours to her. She was watching carefully for a sign, for his body to transform itself back into whoever it originally was. She knew it wasn't really him, it couldn't have been. She sat there on the floor, waiting. Once he was dead…once whoever it was died, the magic would fade. There was nothing left to sustain it. The spark of life…it was gone. Any minute now, the body would revert back to whoever it was. His twisted face would disappear. His eyes would stop glistening the color of the sea…

"You son of a bitch!" Emma yelled, unable to help herself. Her left arm hung limp at her side as she clutched at the wound with her right hand. "You're not him!" she yelled aloud, though her words were less coherent through the sobs. She couldn't control how her body was racking itself, and it only made it that much harder to breathe. Emma began to panic, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to quiet herself. At the rate she was going, she'd end up bleeding out just that much faster.

But Killian's own, cold blue gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. Killian's hook stuck out of his neck. His brown hair continued to get darker as it absorbed the blood off the floor. His lips, parted in a silence cry, paled. Killian…

"No," she huffed, forcing herself to stand. "No! You can't be him. You aren't!" she yelled at the corpse, half-expecting those dead eyes to focus on her and gleam. "No," she whispered, her world blackening around the edges. "Change back!"

She collapsed beside the body, half-afraid to touch it, but more determined to prove to herself that it wasn't…

Emma gripped the lapels of his coat with her right hand and tugged. His head moved to the right and left, the sound of the hook scraping across the floor as it did nearly making her lose all sanity. Her breath came faster, her heart pounded, and she could feel blood surging out with each pulse. She put her hand on his chest, searching for his heartbeat. Maybe he wasn't dead yet, maybe that was why…

But nothing stirred beneath her palm. No beat, no breath. Stone.

She suddenly felt like she was going to vomit, and scuttled as far back from the corpse as she could, wiping her hand on the floorboards. The soft brush of the hair on his chest wouldn't leave her fingertips. She tried to stand again, but quickly found that she couldn't.

She was losing too much blood, and not getting near enough oxygen. Pin pricks of light danced across her vision.

"Help," she wheezed, too quietly. Her world was suddenly very dark and empty.

Emma braced her good shoulder against the wall as she tried again to rise, but to no avail. She sank back to the ground even quicker than before.

She'd killed him. He tried to kill her…

Her head began to pound as the blackened edges of her world began constricting over her eyes.

No. No, she'd never told him about Neal being shot. He couldn't have known…

_Unless someone else told him._

"Emma?" she suddenly heard a voice in the doorway, and with a start and she spun around, too fast. Her world went totally black for a moment.

"Holy shit, Emma!"

She heard Ruby's familiar voice, and saw her red-streaked hair as she bent over her.

"I smelled all the blood, what happened to you?"

"Killian," she said, and gripped Ruby's leather jacket with a bloodied hand. "They have him. We have to find him…that's not him in there. It can't be…"

"Who? Emma, you're not making any sense, and what is that stench over you?"

"Killian, Hook…"

"Emma, I smell a dead body." Ruby turned her head, and gasped when her eyes fell on the gruesome sight.

"You have to help him," Emma whispered.

Ruby glanced back and forth between Emma and the body, before focusing on her.

"I'm helping you first. You've lost too much blood, you're in shock." Ruby pulled out her cell phone. The screen illuminated her pinched, pale face, and she put the phone on speaker. "Snow, it's Ruby. I found her, but she's in bad shape. Get the ambulance over here pronto. "And…" she paused and took a whiff of the air… "Hook's dead. I think he was the one that kidnapped her."

"NO!" Emma screamed, her throat ripping with the ferocity. "It's not Killian. Someone made him look like Killian. Someone used magic…" Emma said, desperate now to get her point across. "He had his clothes, they used some kind of spell. They must have him somewhere! We have to find him before they kill him!"

"Emma, who is Killian?" Ruby asked. Snow answered instead.

"Hook. She's saying something about Hook." Snow was quiet for a moment on her end of the phone. "Are you sure it's him, Ruby?"

"Yes, I'm – Emma!"

The sound of her name did nothing to stir her.

"Emma, stay with me!" she heard Ruby call out, but there was no one left to answer. Emma slipped into darkness, and welcomed it.

She had no idea when or where she was when her eyes opened next. The only thing she could register was the spidery feel of wires that laced up and down her arms and chest, and a faint, electrical humming noise that surrounded her. She was on a bed, and either her eyes were still sightless, or the room was dark. It was a moment before she could focus on the pinpricks of red and green on the machines beside her. She could hear distant voices beyond the door. Unnerved by the strange surroundings, she tried to lift herself into a sitting position, but as she did, she felt some kinds of resistance. Something was holding her down.

"What the hell?" she said aloud, her voice quiet and scratchy, as if it had been ages since she last used it. Her hair stuck in clumps around her head, as if it was in desperate need of washing,

Why was she here? Where exactly was she?

The answer came back to her in a rush so terrible, so abrupt, that she felt like screaming from the impact.

Killian.

She laid still, the pain nothing compared to the black-hole now ripping its way through her chest. She tried to grip at it, as if her hand could grasp her heart and stop it from being sucked away, but she had been tethered to the bed, padded leather straps wrapping her wrist in a cruel cocoon.

She felt the bedspread around her hand for the button she knew would be there. Grasping the electronic buzzer, she pushed the button at the top as hard as she could, envisioning her thumb breaking through the plastic button and meeting electric wires that could jolt her agony away.

It was only a moment before someone came through her door, flicking the overhead light on with a callous and inconsiderate abruptness. She closed her eyes against it.

"Ms. Swan?" the voice said with indifferent sympathy. She cracked her right eye, and saw an unfamiliar woman attend one of the buzzing machines. "We are certainly glad to see you awake, but you shoulder is still too fragile for us to risk another episode. Close your eyes back and just rest. The doctor will be in to see you in the morning."

Emma immediately felt a heavy wave of dizziness and fluff lighten her head. No, no she had to have answers, she wasn't ready to lose it again…

"Stop it, I don't want to be knocked out again," she said, fighting to stop her mind from floating away. "Please, let me talk to Mary Margaret, stop it!"

"Take it easy Ms. Swan. We're only here to help – "

"Stop it!" she yelled as loud as she could, pulling against the restraints. "Get away from me!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Emma heard David's voice, and could have screamed in relief.

"The doctor ordered us to keep her sedated," the nurse replied, "and you can see why."

"Wait, we've been waiting for her to wake up for three days, and when she finally does you knock her back out?"

"She's a danger to herself, you saw that before –"

"Back off," David interrupted, placing herself between the nurse and the machine. "I'll take responsibility. Whale can take it up with me if he wants, but if Emma doesn't want any medication, you can't force it."

"You can be assured that Dr. Whale will certainly hear about it. I'm going to call him this instant."

"Tell him I said 'hi,'" David quipped as the nurse fled the room.

"Where's Henry?" Emma immediately asked, her head clearing

"At home with Mary Margaret. He's worried about you, but fine."

David positioned herself on the edge of her bed and unclasped her wrists from the restraints. "I know this is difficult, but do you remember what happened?"

She was quiet a moment before answering. "Yes. Everything. But I'm not going to lose it, not now," she said, and the while words had been meant to appease him, she realized with a sudden clarity that they were true. Henry was fine. Her parents were there with her. She wasn't so alone…

And yet even as those thoughts soothed a part of her, something deeper inside twisted and jabbed at her heart with a viscous ferocity. He'd turned on her. Tried to kill her, even after they…

No, she couldn't think about it…

"It wasn't him, Emma," David suddenly said, and her all her thoughts suddenly jolted to a halt.

"What?" she barely breathed, her fingers involuntarily gripping the blanket.

"You were right. When Gold learned that Hook was dead, at your hands no less, he had to see it for himself. I think…I think he regretted it. He asked to be alone with the body so he could speak his peace. When he saw it though…well, he smiled."

"What is that supposed to mean? Of course he'd smile. He was probably jumping for joy…"

"No, Emma. The replication spell was practically perfect, even lasting after the body died, but there was no mistaking it. He said there was no mistaking that trace of magic left. After the second day, it reverted back. It was Greg, Emma."

"Greg? So Hook…Hook is…"

"Alive? Very much so, I should think," another voice said from the door, and it only took a moment for her eyes to find him leaning against the doorframe. That lazy smile was stretched across his face, his blue eyes gleaming and not fixed on the ceiling –

"Though I must say, I am quite flattered that you were so concerned about me, even though you all but believed I had tried to kill you."

"Where the fuck have you been?" she shouted, beating back the hot wetness in her eyes. It was easier to feel the anger rather than the other blossoming, volatile emotions threatening to spill over.

He shrugged. "Tamara took a liking to that dashing red jacket of yours. She very much looked the part too, thanks to the same magic Greg used. Divide and conquer as they say. Though I seemed to have faired better than you."

"She shot you," David interjected.

"This?" he motioned towards his left arm. "It's only a flesh wound. Once the Queen decides to grace us with her presence we should both be as good as new."

"Emma already is," David said, a small smile on his face.

"What?" she said, noticing for the first time that there had been a strange lack of pain. She looked at her left shoulder, and pulled down the hospital gown. There was an angry red and puckered bit of skin about the size of a penny where a gaping hole should have been.

"How in the hell…"

"Your magic," David said, and he looked every bit the proud father. Emma suddenly felt the silly, yet irresistible urge to stick her tongue out at Killian.

"Lovely," the pirate sighed, and she saw his eyes roll. "If you two will excuse me now, I think I'd like to have some more of those funny white bits of chalk…"

"I have to go call Mary Margaret so she can bring Henry down. You," he pointed to Killian, "sit right here and keep Whale and that nurse away. Got it?"

"Oh?" Killian straightened to his full height. "Giving me orders now, Prince?"

"Just sit down," Emma said, glancing at him before looking down at her blanket. After a moment, he was seated beside her, gingerly holding his bandaged arm. David looked back once at them, and seemed to glare at Killian a moment before leaving the room.

"Funny," Killian said, "I think he's taking a liking to me."

"No, that would be the pain pills. You're probably on cloud nine right now."

His blank look made her sigh.

"Seriously?" she said. "How long have we been back from Neverland? Learn some of the language, already."

"I actually almost feel drunk. Is that what 'cloud nine' is supposed to be?"

"Sure." She couldn't help but laugh. The emotional roller coaster she'd just ridden left her feeling almost giddy.

"So, are you on cloud nine as well then? You're being more sociable than usual."

"I suppose. Cloud nine is a good place to be. Much better than dead."

He was quiet after she said that, and it unnerved her. Maybe it was the giddiness, maybe it was the drugs, but she had a sudden and insatiable urge to reach her hand out and touch him. Just to be sure he was real. The image of dead Greg-Hook immediately flashed in her mind, and before she could stop and think about it, her hand was suddenly on Killian's shoulder. It was a light touch because of his injury, but her fingers brushed the warm skin on his neck, and felt the strong throb of his pulse. His eyes were looking at her, and his hand gently took hers and removed it from his shoulder.

"I'm quite alive, as I said before," he smiled.

Emma immediately felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and swiped her hand back.

"I just…I mean, I know. I know that now. You can just never be too sure with all this crazy shit going on around us – "

"Are you going to stop babbling already?" he asked, standing. "I'm sure the Prince won't be gone for much longer."

Before she could reply, he was suddenly perched on the edge of her bed, his left arm tucked against his body, while his right hand tangled itself in her hair. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she had nowhere to look but in his eyes, so close their eyelashes could have brushed.

"Never doubt me again," he said. She felt the words vibrate in his chest. "I would never hurt you, Henry, or even that damn Crocodile if you didn't want me to. Whatever that bastard said or did to make you doubt it, I expect you to believe me now. Is that understood, Swan?"

"I knew it wasn't you," she answered, "even if I doubted it after, I knew…"

"I should bloody well hope so." His eyes creased and he smiled again. "Did you really think I would let someone could kill me with my own damn hook?"

"You lose it often enough."

"Perhaps, but I always get it back, don't I?"

"Yes, but…"

"There you go with the babbling again. Prince Save-the-Day will probably be back –"

"Fine," she cut him off, and before he could say another word, she practically bit into his lips with hers, their teeth clacking before he was able to get his wits about him and kiss back. She held herself against him as tightly as possible, and he relaxed his body so that it lay on top of hers in the bed, his pressure warm and more comforting than she could have ever imagined. Memories of the night they'd spent together in Neverland flooded back to her, the mental dam broken. He was here. He was alive. She didn't waste any more time wondering if she trusted him or not. She only cared about the way his hot lips felt against hers, the way the scruff on his face made her skin tingle. She was alive, more alive than ever before. He'd been right all along, and she understood now.

To live, was certainly the greatest adventure of all.


End file.
